Devotion
by RobesOfRed
Summary: This is a love story between Raistlin and Dalamar. I'm rating it "Mature" for now, although the love scenes may end up being not-so-explicit. It is AU/ alternate timeline, set around the time of Legends. There will be several twists involving elements from canon. If you don't like this type of story, PLEASE just stay away. Thanks!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Dalamar lay on the stone floor, drifting in and out of consciousness, his head carefully cushioned by Raistlin's folded cloak. Though the subterranean corridor was uncomfortably damp, Raistlin found himself grateful for the clean water leaking from one of the overhead pipes. His apprentice was badly wounded, and had already vomited to the point of dehydration. He was resting a little now, though, and no longer hallucinating, at least for the moment.

"Dalamar," he urged gently, holding a small flask to the bruised lips. "You must drink...a little, at least." Normally so polished and vibrant, the elf was an almost unrecognizable mess, despite Raistlin's best efforts to clean off some of the dirt and blood.

Raistlin winced at the sight of Dalamar's injuries, especially the horrific chest wound. Now, for the first time since leaving the Tower to follow his apprentice into town, he had a moment to think. Par Salian and Ladonna. Damn them! He had thwarted their cowardly, self-serving intentions, but just barely. Seconds more and he'd have been too late. "I will __destroy you__ for this!" he had sworn before casting the only spell he dared – a damaging but comparatively mild attack that would buy him time to get Dalamar to safety. Revenge would be sweet, but it could wait. His apprentice was hovering on the edge of death, and he needed to conserve his own strength for vital healing work.

The elf stirred weakly, then opened his mouth to take an obliging sip of the water, barely enough to wet his lips. "Shalafi," he managed to whisper. "I am sorry..." There was despair in his fevered eyes as he looked up at Raistlin. "I do not deserve to die in your arms...yet I would ask it of you." He drew a labored breath. "Please...I failed you, but I tried... I wanted...so much..." He closed his eyes in exhausted anguish.

Raistlin bent over him, his voice commanding but gentle. "Stop wasting your energy, apprentice." He combed back the damp hair with his fingers. "You shall __not__ die, and the pain will subside. Aside from your physical injuries, you are still feeling the effects of several very powerful spells. It will get better, I promise." Caressing Dalamar's head soothingly. "I have done what I can for now, but my efforts have taken all my strength. I need sleep – badly."

"Please," begged the elf in a choked whisper, as he clutched Raistlin's arm. "Don't leave me."

"Rest easy now. Tonight you have earned my full respect – and my protection. I will not leave your side." He spoke soothingly as he settled into the corner with his back against the wall, gently shifting Dalamar's head onto his lap, then partially covering him with the cloak. Trembling with weariness, he took one of the elf's hands in his own and, just before succumbing to exhaustion, whispered, "I will never leave you."

* * *

><p>Not two hours later, Dalamar woke with a cry, startling Raistlin out of an uneasy sleep. "It's all right," he muttered groggily. "You are safe now."<p>

Semi-conscious and entirely confused, the elf looked up at his master. "Shalafi, how...?" he asked weakly. "Where are we?"

"We are below the city. I will explain later. You need rest now."

"Are they dead?" inquired Dalamar hopefully. Raistlin chuckled bitterly.

"You overestimate me, apprentice. I wounded them both, of course, but your life was my priority, and I therefore chose not to spend all my energy on revenge this night. No, they both live still, but rest assured they will pay for everything in time," he finished, offering him the water again. "__Everything___."_

Dalamar, though still extremely weak, drank eagerly now, slowly draining the entire flask, much to Raistlin's satisfaction. "And you are not angry with me?" he asked, with some trepidation.

"Only at your refusal to close your mouth and allow us both a bit of sleep!" Raistlin's words were harsh, but relief was written plainly on his face. "Now, do shut up!" He closed his eyes and caressed the tangled raven hair. Dalamar sighed contentedly and leaned his head into the gentle touch. Despite the damp cold and his own considerable pain, being so close to Raistlin brought him more joy than he could remember feeling in a very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

_"He is the greatest wizard in history! His loyalty is to the magic first, as is mine. The Conclave serves its own ends – that is clear to me now. Well, do what you must, for I no longer serve the Conclave, and I will NEVER give him up to you! I -" but he was suddenly writhing in agony on the floor, blinded by Ladonna's spell. "How dare you," she growled. "Oh, I will enjoy breaking you, little boy!"_

_"Ladonna," admonished Par Salian quietly. "There is no need for drastic measures. I realize he must die, but we should be merciful."_

_"Oh, yes!" snarled Dalamar, blood trickling from his nose and mouth, as he rose to his feet in an act of pure will. "The benevolent white robe! You pretend to show mercy, but you will turn your head and offer no resistance. Your soul is far blacker than my master's robes! I know what you did to him, so do what you like to me. I will suffer it gladly, knowing you will never defeat him!"_

_A second attack, and he collapsed instantly, trying vainly to catch his breath, to re-gain some measure of control over the electric pain coursing through him. Twisting her face into a malicious smile, Ladonna closed the distance between them. "Get up," she spat, grabbing him by the hair. She was close now, and he could feel her soft breath in his ear. "Your beauty is exquisite, dark elf." She traced her fingers through the blood on the side of his face. "Too bad I haven't the opportunity for a few moments' pleasure..." she said, glancing sidelong at Par Salian "before I tear out your treacherous heart!"_

_Her hand was on his chest now, and the burning pain now spreading through him made the earlier attacks seem like the work of a novice. He couldn't move, nor scream, and he knew, somehow, that he was also being prevented from losing consciousness._

_Ladonna's cruel pleasure was evident in her face and in her low laughter as her fingers slowly burned themselves into his flesh. The pain! Gods, there was nothing now but the burning pain and, through a fog of hallucination, his only coherent thought was a faint hope that it would be over soon, that he could escape into the cool, peaceful quiet of death. But the searing pain continued for what seemed like an eternity. Then, suddenly, from a distance, it seemed, he heard raised voices, and then felt himself released, free to collapse, helpless, onto the floor. Barely conscious, caught between horrifying visions and brutal reality, he soon sensed a familiar presence. Warm, thin fingers touched his face, and he heard a soft, commanding voice mutter "sleep", as he slipped into senseless oblivion._


	3. Chapter 3

The large, curtained bed was warm and luxurious, and Dalamar was woken only by the unfamiliarity of being there. Opening his eyes, his gaze fell instinctively on his master's luminous hair, radiant in the light of both visible moons, as he slumbered peacefully on the small sofa nearby. Despite being in a great deal of pain, Dalamar sighed with relief; they were back in the Tower. Upon looking around, he then realized exactly where they were – not his own room, but Raistlin's. Dalamar had spent many nights on that settee during his master's bouts of illness which, thankfully, had become far less frequent of late. Being here confirmed the severity of his own present condition, though. The archmage was likely afraid to leave him, and possibly too weak himself to travel between their separate quarters.

The elf grew concerned. Raistlin had indeed seemed slightly healthier and a bit more energetic in recent months, but he would never be physically strong. Dalamar knew full well that the events of – how many nights ago? - must have surely taken their toll. Sitting up, he let the expected dizziness subside, then slowly pulled back the blankets and, with some effort, moved quietly to the edge of the bed.

"Where, precisely, are you planning to go, dark elf?" came the irritated whisper.

Dalamar cursed silently! "I only wished to know that you were alright, Shalafi," he replied, suddenly lying back down in a flood of dizziness and pain.

"Gods, apprentice!" he complained without any real aggravation, rising gracefully and crossing over to the bed. "I drag you back from the brink of death, and you finally decide to wake in the middle of the first nights' sleep I've had in a week!"

"A week!" exclaimed Dalamar. How had he lost so much time?

"Almost," conceded Raistlin as he lit the bedside lamp. "You were attacked five nights ago. This is our third night back in the Tower."

"Still..." marveled Dalamar.

Raistlin's tone became serious. "Clearly you do not realize the extent of your injuries," he said gravely, brushing back the elf's long black hair and studying the grey eyes intently. He felt the pulse in his neck for a moment, muttering "good", a note of distinct relief in his voice. After checking several of the more superficial wounds, he then moved away to wash his hands and gather some bandages. Returning, he unceremoniously pulled Dalamar's unlaced night shirt completely off his left shoulder.

Following Raistlin's gaze, Dalamar inhaled sharply at the sight of the blood-soaked bandage on his chest. His hand instinctively moved toward the wound, but Raistlin prevented it."Do not touch it," he ordered sharply, then swiftly changed the bandage without letting the elf get a good look at the damage underneath.

His mind on the injury now, Dalamar's heart began to race and his breath came faster as the dull, unpleasant cloud in the back of his mind started to crystallize into specific, terrible memories. Squeezing his eyes closed, he then curled up and rolled onto his side as the visions overtook him. Raistlin sat beside him, keeping a firm hand on his back as he waited for the episode to pass. Babbling in thick Silvanesti, eyes wide open now but unseeing, Dalamar sat up and clung to Raistlin as if his life depended on it.

Then, barely two minutes later, he looked up at his master with recognition. "Shalafi," he whispered with great relief. "Yes, apprentice," smiled the archmage with weary patience. "You are home, and I am by your side. You are safe." He continued to speak soothingly. "We are both perfectly safe. No one can touch us here."

The elf closed his eyes, and a shudder ran through him. "It all just seemed so real."

"Believe it or not," Raistlin said quietly, easing his apprentice back down onto the pillows. "That was a relatively mild occurrence. Your condition is clearly improving. I know you cannot see it, but I can," he said with quiet encouragement as he smoothed Dalamar's hair and wiped his face with a clean, cool rag.

Raistlin then took the elf's trembling hands in his own. "Do not fear, dark elf. You are physically stronger now, and so I can begin to work through the curses that still hold you. In order to do this I must keep you bound with certain spells of my own, to limit the effects on your mind and allow you to heal properly. Do you understand?"

Dalamar gave an exhausted nod.

Raistlin caressed his face lightly, preparing the components for a very restful sleep spell. "I will see you through this, apprentice. Have patience, and trust me."

"I do, Shalafi. You are so kind to me. You saved my life."

Raistlin looked at him earnestly. "And you saved mine, and – more importantly – my work." He paused. "_Our_ work," he amended softly, with an odd glint in his eyes that Dalamar carried with him into a most lovely dream.


	4. Chapter 4

_"That you were given certain – "duties" – by the Conclave I have no doubt," Raistlin said, watching the elf closely as he spoke. "Par Salian would not simply send me an apprentice, free and clear," he chuckled mirthlessly, then stifled a small coughing fit. He must not appear weak in front of this newcomer._

_"Shalafi, I -" began Dalamar slowly, but he was abruptly cut off._

_"Silence!" ordered the archmage. "I advise you to think carefully before you speak. You are not my friend, 'dark elf'," he said with a slight sneer. Dalamar accepted the intended insult with an impassive face. "But the instant you lie to me, you become my enemy. And, while I do not shrink from adding to my growing list of adversaries, I would not needlessly waste an opportunity to advance my work. I do not deny that an assistant may prove useful to me." He sipped a mug of warm, spiced wine to soothe his throat, as he continued to observe his new apprentice. "I am certain that the Conclave would have chosen no less than a highly promising student for this...assignment." _

_Raistlin paused, and his eyes narrowed. "Because you are exceptionally talented, and profess to serve the magic, I wish to give you a fair chance to prove yourself, as well as time to decide – truly – which path you wish to take. For the time being, _you may report back to the Conclave on anything I allow you to see or do here. That should satisfy them for the present._"_

_Dalamar said nothing, and his face didn't change, but Raistlin sensed his tension lessen slightly. _

_"However," he continued, and here his expression turned softly malevolent, "if you seek to betray me in earnest, I will kill you – without a second thought. And I will cheerfully send your head to Par Salian."_

_Dalamar nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. He couldn't readily imagine his young master doing anything "cheerfully", but he understood his meaning well enough. He hadn't expected Raistlin to address the issue so directly, either, but he greatly respected him for being so forthright. His power was unmistakable, and there was magic emanating from the very walls of this place, but he felt no specific influence upon himself. The archmage had made no attempt, at least that Dalamar could ascertain, to delve into his mind._

_Raistlin stood up, and his voice returned to its former tone, commanding but not threatening. "I have no immediate plans to harm you, so you may rest your mind on that point. Of course I will not divulge to you anything of true importance, but..." he motioned toward the door, "there is much I am willing to teach you that will be to your benefit." He opened the door to the hallway. "And we will see, after a time, where your loyalties truly lie - with that bunch of fools in Wayreth..." he looked pointedly at Dalamar before closing the door "...or with the magic."_

* * *

><p>Several days passed, and Dalamar was now well enough to stay by himself for short periods of time. He had spent the morning reading and lightly napping while Raistlin attended to some long-neglected work in the adjoining study. Unwilling to leave his apprentice for too long, however, the archmage rejoined him in the early afternoon.<p>

Raistlin glanced at the bedside table, satisfying himself that Dalamar had eaten a respectable amount of the fruit and bread he had left there that morning.

"Enough study for today," said Raistlin, taking the book from him. "It is quite pleasant outside, and you need sunlight and fresh air, especially on that injured skin. Do you think you can walk out to the balcony?"

Dalamar nodded.

"Good. But let me take off the dressing first." He went to the fireplace and removed the kettle, pouring hot water into a basin filled with pungent herbs and clean cotton rags. After washing his hands, he moved to Dalamar's side and gently held a warm cloth over the bandaged wound.

"This will be painful, but I will do my best," apologized Raistlin as he slowly peeled back the old dressing.

Dalamar smiled."Of course you will, Shalafi. I could have no better care than what you have given me." Snippets of memory had been flashing through his mind all morning – Raistlin comforting him in a soothing voice, caressing his face, bathing him as gently as a child, kissing his forehead. Dreams, hallucinations, or reality? Dalamar couldn't be sure.

"It is more than I deserve," he added, wincing as Raistlin took a fresh cloth and carefully cleaned out the five individual wounds, his deft fingers working as efficiently as possible so as to inflict a minimum of pain.

"What a fool thing to say, apprentice," he chided in his familiar sarcastic way as he put away the basin and washed his hands again. Returning to the bed, he offered his arm to the elf, gently helping him to rise. "It is my duty to care for you. You almost died for my sake, after all", he finished, placing his arm around Dalamar's waist to support him.

No more was said as they made their way slowly through Raistlin's rooms and out onto the spacious balcony. Despite its great height, it had been oriented in such a way that very little wind would disturb its occupants, and was generally a very agreeable place to sit, day or night.

Raistlin helped Dalamar to a wooden bench, tucking a soft cushion behind him so he could lean comfortably against the stone wall. The elf felt immediate relief as the warm afternoon sunlight bathed his face and the bare skin of his torso. Raistlin repositioned a chair and sat down opposite him.

"Dalamar," began Raistlin slowly, almost cautiously. "I have been putting off this discussion, but I think you are strong enough now. I must ask you," he continued, and his golden eyes openly searched the elf's face. "Why did you go to that meeting alone? Why risk torture and near-certain death?" He was almost angry now, and the elf knew the futility of any effort to redirect the conversation.

His pulse quickened, and his breath caught in his throat, but he met his master's gaze, answering evenly, "Because I serve the magic above all things, Shalafi, and you are the greatest wizard living. I am a loyal student, your humble servant. My death would be nothing compared to yours. I didn't know what the Conclave might have had planned, therefore I didn't want you to leave the Tower. I knew my death would be a warning to you, and that you would be safe."

"Your loyalty is commendable, but there is something else," Raistlin stated flatly, his eyes hard and unreadable.

They regarded each other silently for a small eternity. Then Dalamar spoke, unable to keep a slight trembling out of his voice."You already know. By now you must..."

"Know what?" asked Raistlin, but his expression had become so strangely gentle that Dalamar knew he had not been mistaken.

Eyes alight with emotion, his reply was low, nearly a whisper."That there is nothing I would not do for you...that I belong to you..." He swallowed hard, and his voice became slightly stronger, as he finished, "...that I love you."

Raistlin watched him for a long moment, then finally spoke. "I have had my suspicions for awhile, but I discovered your true feelings - and your reckless intentions - eleven nights ago." He paused, rising, and came to sit beside Dalamar, taking the elf's hand in his. "The night I almost lost you."


	5. Chapter 5

******** NOTE:** I just added a** flashback scene **to the beginning of Chapter 4**. Be sure to check it out!**** ********

**Chapter 5**

Despite the warmth of the afternoon, Dalamar trembled like a leaf at Raistlin's touch, his nearness. Overwhelmed, he closed his eyes, savoring the intensity of the moment.

Breathless, he finally spoke. "So I wasn't dreaming, then? You did hold me, comfort me, swear to never leave me!" There was awe and wonder in his voice, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Raistlin's expression turned quietly stormy as he released his hold on Dalamar, but the elf caught his wrist as he drew his hands back.

"Shalafi..." he pleaded, clasping Raistlin's hand in both of his.

"Apprentice -" he began in an anguished voice, but did not immediately pull away.

"Please, I beg you – do not deny this."

Finally extricating himself, the archmage stood up and began pacing the floor. "You do not understand, Dalamar! I cannot -"

"Not 'cannot'!" The elf's voice rose. "Rather 'will not'!" He hadn't the strength to argue, but he refused to let his heart's desire slip away without a fight. "Why must you continue to deprive yourself of any measure of happiness?!"

"It is not that simple! I..." he paused, at a loss for words. Crossing to the balcony, he looked out over the Grove, silent.

"You cannot explain, Shalafi, because you have no valid argument," implored Dalamar, growing quite bold in his desperation. "I have begun to remember much of what you said to me when you thought I was out of my mind with fever. Don't attempt to deny it." His words were gentle but insistent. "You DO love me!"

Raistlin sighed, turning finally, and his voice was heavy. "If I am capable of loving anyone..." he began, then stopped. "You have become very...important to me, yes, and I do not wish to be without you. We share a bond, no doubt, and we work very well together...but I ask you – even if I _could_ return such feelings..."

He continued pacing, arguing mostly with himself. "You already know that I long ago gave up notions of love. That part of my soul is dead!"

"I don't believe that!" countered Dalamar.

"Even in such a case, I think it would be unwise to alter our relationship in such an irrevocable way! There is already great potential in our work, and the magic must remain our priority!"

"And it always shall!" Dalamar stood up quickly in his excitement, then sat back down as dizziness overcame him. After a moment he went on, slightly more subdued. "Don't you see, Shalafi? We are both sworn to the magic! Is there anyone alive who is more devoted than we two? I believe, truly, that a stronger bond between us will only enhance our power. And, there are very specific physical energies...surely you know of the potential for -"

"Yes, I know of it," replied Raistlin hotly, quite agitated now, "but I have never given much thought to that branch of magic."

Despite his protests, he soon returned to Dalamar's side. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the stone wall, suddenly very tired. "Must we speak of such things?" he asked in frustration. "I know nothing of...these matters."

"Then allow me to guide you. Please", he coaxed in a honeyed voice as he swept back a silken strand of white hair. Then he drew closer and softly brushed Raistlin's lips with his own; a gentle, almost chaste kiss. "Let me bring you pleasure."

Lost for only a single (sweet) moment, Raistlin soon turned his head away. "Are you mad, apprentice?" he scoffed in an attempt to hide his extreme discomfort. "You have scarcely the strength to walk back inside!"

"Perhaps..." murmured Dalamar, laying his head on Raistlin's shoulder and softly kissing his neck.

"Stop that!" he demanded, this time getting up entirely and moving well out of Dalamar's reach.

A long silence ensued, and sudden clouds began to obscure the brightness of the day. After many moments, Dalamar spoke, and his voice was steady and clear. "Do not mistake me, Shalafi. I desire nothing less than your heart, freely given. I do not deny that I wish to lie with you; to share pleasures with you – but only if you also desire it; and only if you can ever come to care for me as I do for you."

Raistlin looked at him, then shook his head slowly. "Oh, dark elf," he said, with quiet exasperation. "I do not doubt your sincerity, your devotion. But I do not believe myself capable of what you are asking."

Dalamar looked up at him with sincere, almost worshipful eyes. "I believe you capable of anything."

Raistlin did not reply, but finally broke eye contact and began to stare out into the fading sunlight. After several more moments Dalamar could no longer endure the silence. "Please consider what I've said," he began calmly. "But if you do not desire...," he trailed off, swallowing back tears. "Just allow me to stay by your side. Please. I will never speak of it again if -"

Raistlin, turning suddenly, cut him off with a look. He was in full control of himself once again, speaking in his usual, commanding tone. "Now is not an appropriate time for such a conversation as this. You are still recovering, and not yet free of magical influence, most especially my own. This could all be a side effect of recent events."

Dalamar began to protest. "You know that's not -"

But Raistlin's jaw twitched, the golden eyes flared dangerously, and Dalamar knew he was about to cross a line. Suddenly very tired, he nodded his understanding. "Of course, Shalafi," he answered deferentially.

Raistlin seemed satisfied that the subject was closed. He moved to Dalamar, helping him stand, and offering no objection when the elf leaned heavily on him for support as they returned to the bedroom. Dalamar, exhausted physically and emotionally, lay quietly as Raistlin placed a fresh bandage on his chest and gently massaged pungent salve onto his remaining cuts and bruises. He was deeply asleep before Raistlin had pulled the blankets back over him.

After putting everything away, Raistlin built up the fire, then collapsed softly onto the settee, staring at the ceiling as he sighed to himself. "What in the Abyss am I going to do now?!"


End file.
